The Dead Ice
by Solanio
Summary: Seeking funds to buy food, Crichton and Moya's crew find themselves on a nightmare world, now desperate to escape with just their lives. But one by one, each falls prey to an ancient evil.
1. An impossible world

_Farscape, the Farscape characters, and the Farscape universe are the creations of Rockne S. O'Bannon and are owned entirely by the **Jim Henson Company** and Farscape Productions. Use of these characters here is only for entertainment value, with no intent to infringe upon the rights of the owning organizations and parties._

_For further information on the Farscape Universe, please visit the **Farscape Web Page** at and the **Jim Henson Company Farscape Fan Site** for episode listings, air times, and background information on the show and on the stars._

_This is old Farscape - pre-Zhaan's departure. This story made its debut on the BBoard back in 2000, offered in installments. It was intended to be a bit of escapism from the horrendous gaps in new farscape episodes that plagued us in the U.S, my so-called fanfix-fiction. It was the third of five plot outlines I created in that series (see Dark Dreamer and Redemption for the first two). I wasn't happy with original ending and I'm hoping that I'll find a better one for this incarnation. This story was meant to debut in entirety by Halloween, 1999 - but as I said, I was never happy with the ending, so it came out as bits and pieces as posts on the main board (I suppose it's still there in the archives somewhere). As it is, I hope you'll find it a nice creepy flavor for a virtual Halloween. - Cheers, Sol._

_One mention on aliens - when I first posted this story on back on 2000, there was no such thing as a **Traskan**. One of the hazards of early fanfic is that they can come to be disjointed from the main canon scripts; or as in this case and in the case of Redemption, come to have an eerie similarity between what is written in fanfic and what came to be written for the show. **Traskans** and my aliens here, called **Ayetuh** - are very similar, enough so that I could have just renamed the aliens Traskans as an update and it would have flowed just fine. But I decided to keep the text the same. The use of the third eye actually comes from a story in Greek mythology, where Athena blinds someone for seeing her bathing, but in mercy, gives him a third, psychic, eye to let him perceive the future. - and now, on to the story._

**The Dead Ice**

_**by Solanio - 1.22.00**_

Time: Sometime between Through the Looking Glass and A Bug's Life  
Spoilers: Throne For a Loss, That Old Black Magic

If one could save the colours of a nightmare, they would be kept in such a place. The world was a work of chaos, painted with a glimmer of madness: fields of ice, mountains of ice, ice that was a shroud to the senses and barren of all hope. The frozen landscape was cracked and fissured by the tidal pressures of several nearby moons. And the sky was savaged by radiation storms from two suns, whose marriage in this binary system was uncomfortable and violent. A distant giant red sun was setting behind one of the larger moons, banished for the moment but soon to return when this moon had passed in orbit. The red sun's light was fast waning, transforming the scene from one of blood-red wreckage to that of an eerie iridescence. The companion sun, a bright starlight speck of a blue-white dwarf, now offered its own dim ghostly illumination, fueled by gasses stolen from its behemoth partner. And to this, the reflections from the moons created grey half-shadows everywhere. Their phantom light revealed - things, half seen and more than half imagined, embedded in the ice. Animals, presumably, of all sizes lay in their frozen tombs, their bodies twisted by a painful rigor. Their ocean, their world had killed them with cold, trapping them as ornaments of misery. Here and there, where erosion from the biting wind or where impact had torn up the ice, bits and pieces of bodies lay exposed, soulless offerings of agony to any traveler so unlucky as to come there. In such a place, darkness would have been a kindness to the eyes.

Crichton rubbed a bit of ice with his gloved hand, hoping to better see the face of something. An alien visage presented itself. Trying to reconcile what he could comprehend to the mad anatomy he had discovered, John's mind decided to call it part fish and part insect. Though alien, John could still read much expression into the face. It's mouth was caught open as if in a scream, utter hopelessness and despair seemed trapped in the frozen eyes. Crichton removed his glove and swept his hand to polish the ice and get a better look. It touched upon a thin patch where the ice had worn though, and his fingers brushed something, not ice. In his imagination for a moment, he thought that whatever it was, the creature's appendage moved and grabbed him. He realized in an instant that it was just the deep cold welding his skin to that of the frozen dead flesh. But it startled him so much that he jerked his hand back, painfully tearing some of his own skin. Having seen enough, he kicked the snowy shavings of windblown ice over the creature. He succeeded in hiding it from his eyes, but not from his memory. As he sucked his torn finger, he could taste something bitter there. With disgust, he spat out a sliver of - something - and walked back to where Genna and Rygel were presumably waiting.

Genna was not there. Rygel was, seated uncomfortably in his gravthrone. He was quite vocal upon seeing Crichton.

"Oh, there you are!" Despite his tone, Rygel seemed rather glad to see John. "Genna said his people would be here. I don't like to be kept waiting. I don't trust that man."

"Sparky, did it occur to you that this is a little late for having reservations? Maybe, you should have said this _before_ we got here." Crichton looked at the barren landscape around him. - "Wherever the hell here happens to be."

Rygel was quick to point out, "I don't see that we have much choice. And you're the one who keeps complaining about having nothing but food cubes to eat. Need I remind you that there are not many who are willing to deal with people in our - _situation_?"

"Yeah, well food cubes don't sound half so bad now."

"What did you find?" Rygel asked him, hoping to change the subject.

But Crichton ignored the question. "I don't want to start up a conversation, Rygel. Let's just get this over with. I want out of here."

"As do I," Rygel agreed, pulling his shawl over his shoulders as if the meager cloth might give him any more comfort in that place.

Crichton watched him. He checked his own thermal pack and nodded to Rygel's.

"That thing still working for you?"

"Yes," Rygel told him. "I'm not cold. I'm just..."

A sweeping shadow cut off the moonlight. They felt the vibration of the ship before they could see it, but they saw it soon enough. It was a medium transport, purposely bland and nondescript, not much more than a grey cylinder that blended into the landscape as the ship settled down beyond a ridge of torn ice hills.

"Well, they're here," Crichton announced.

"Is stating the obvious a human trait, or is compelling stupidity something only you manifest?"

"Save it for the smugglers, Sparky. Let's just get what we came for and leave this frelling snow cone."

"That has always been my intention." Rygel took a moment from examining his fingers to look at John. Rygel noticed that Crichton had a rather bothered expression on his face. "Is something wrong?"

John nodded.

"Yeah - this place. This place is all wrong."

Rygel looked around him. "It's just a planet, Crichton. It's not much different than many other bleak planets in this galaxy. When you've lived as long as I have, they all start looking the same."

"Rygel, if there were going to be _any_ planets in this system, they should all be like those moons up there, dead and sterile. The planetary nebula from that white dwarf up there has this system washed in all kinds of radiation. The place is a dead zone."

"Frankly, I don't see your point. Pilot said there was nothing living on this planet."

"Yeah, but take look around you. The creatures in this ice - this place was a thriving ocean world. How did it get here? It would take billions of years to produce this kind of complex biosphere. Binary stars like the ones up there can't be much older than a hundred million years - cycles, whatever. None of this makes any sense."

"The way you keep telling me these things, it makes me consider that you actually think that I am interested in your babblings. My only use for astronomers was so they could pronounce when the stars were favorable for festivals and breeding times."

"That's astrologers. What, you had to have someone tell you when it was alright to mate?"

"Yes, that way we ensure that our spawn are the hardiest and at their best. - Otherwise, we risk producing substandard idiots. For instance, when do humans mate?"

"Every chance we get."

"Yes, my point exactly." Rygel smiled viciously.

John refused to take the bait. He scowled, but not at the Hynerian's barbs. A feeling of cold touched his shoulders and he rubbed himself uncomfortably. He adjusted the warmth of his thermal pack just as he heard steps crunching on the other side of an ice wall. It was Genna. He was returning from his own scouting hike. He seemed deep in thought.

"Your smugglers just landed over that ridge. They'll be here soon," Crichton told him.

Genna looked in the direction Crichton had pointed out. Then he turned each of his three eyes upon Crichton. Crichton hated it when the Ayetuh looked at him. That third eye in his forehead was a bit disconcerting. If it weren't for that, Genna could easily have passed for a human - or sebacean.

"Yes, I saw the ship." Genna informed Crichton.

They were a motley crew, much as Moya's own. Five in number, each represented a different race of alien, mostly humanoid. Yet they stuck together as an organized band. Two of them spread out to either side, sweeping the empty horizon with some sort of rifle. Satisfied that they were alone, they nodded to the other three to proceed forward.

"Trusting bunch," John commented.

One of them was an Ayetuh like Genna, though this one was a woman. Each of her eyes was different in colour. The effect was striking, and Crichton had to admit that she was very pretty, despite her third eye. She was also obviously much younger than Genna, but what their exact relationship was, Crichton could only guess at. Neither of the Ayetuh seemed to be particularly pleased nor displeased to see the other. Their greeting was simple and to the point.

"Genna. I have brought a salvage crew," the Ayetuh woman said.

Genna nodded. "And I, Vendrana, have secured us a cargo ship." Genna turned and gestured to Rygel. "They are not experienced in salvage but their ship is large."

"Salvage?" Rygel floated over to confront Genna. "You told us you were smugglers." The Hynerian floated over to Crichton. "Come on, Crichton. We are leaving. I don't like being lied to." Rygel didn't bother waiting for Crichton. He started to steer his throne back to the transport pod that had brought them to the surface.

But someone stepped forward to block his way.

The new Ayetuh, Vendrana, introduced the alien who was blocking Rygel. "This is the leader of the salvage team. He calls himself Erkul."

The leader turned out to be a Tavlek, of all races, hardly one to recommend itself to Rygel. With a Tavlek's typical bluntness, "Where's your ship?" Erkul demanded of Rygel.

Rygel shrank back in fear, maneuvering his throne so that he now hid behind Crichton. Crichton reluctantly found himself between the two. Still, he did not back down from the Tavlek. As Erkul and Crichton eyed each other, the microns passed ever so slowly.

Genna spoke up, probably hoping to diffuse the tension. "We are smugglers," he assured Rygel. "And we do have a cargo, a very rich cargo, for you to transport. We just need Erkul's help to find it first."

"The Ayetuh said you had a ship. I want to see it." Though Erkul addressed Rygel, he was constantly looking back at John. Instinctively, the Tavlek flexed the gauntlet which served him as both armor and as a weapon.

Rygel came out from behind John. "I do have a ship."

Rygel was recovering from his shock at first seeing the Tavlek. And Genna's words had rekindled the deep flame of greed which burned in every Hynerian's hearts. In Rygel's case, avarice had often passed for courage. It was a poor substitute but he did well with it nonetheless.

"You'll see it soon enough - just as soon as I've seen the cargo," Rygel said with some spirit.

"We are partners in this venture. You can trust us," the Tavlek assured him.

"We are partners," Rygel agreed. "As for that other matter, Genna did not barter for my trust. And frankly, I don't think you have its price, either."

Once again, Genna interjected. "The reason you all have been brought here is to find a ship. Seventy-nine cycles ago, it crashed on this planet carrying a very valuable cargo. Given all those cycles of ice storms, and tidal forces from the moons and the suns, the ship is probably buried. That is why you are here," he said to Erkul. "When we find the ship, your people will excavate it." Turning back to Rygel, "Once Erkul's people have excavated it, we will use the Dominar's ship to transport the cargo."

Rygel moved his gravthrone back over to Genna. "And what is this cargo? You said it would make us rich."

"The Hynerian is right. You have brought us all the way out here on empty promises. So far, I have heard nothing but talk. Now you must pay - one way, or another." The Tavlek now walked up to Vendrana, clenching his armoured gauntlet as if threatening to use it on her if Genna's answers didn't satisfy him.

John stepped in between Vendrana and the Tavlek.

"Just back off, Bucko," he warned Erkul.

"Calm yourselves. Here, I'll show you." Genna said.

He stepped in between the human and the tavlek. Taking Crichton's hand, Genna poured the contents of a small packet into John's palm. It was a fine fibrous material, flakes of ruby red in colour and shine. Just touching it made John's hand tingle and a weird feeling was travelling up his arm.

"_Anlir_," Genna told them."Now you see what we are after."

Erkul grabbed John's hand and pulled it closer for a look. He bent his wrecked scarred face down and sniffed it. John wrinkled his nose in disgust at the Tavlek's touch, but didn't pull back.

"You're lying!" Erkul snorted. He stood straight. "There is no such thing. _Anlir_ is a myth. Only a fool such as yourself would try to claim otherwise."

"No, it isn't a myth," Rygel countered. He hovered over to John's hand, his hungry eyes feasting on what it saw. "I have seen _anlir_ before. There was a measure of it, smaller than this, held in the Royal Treasury. I have only tasted it once, at my ascension."

"What you hold there," Genna told Crichton, "is worth more than an inhabited planet. The prize we seek would fill your entire ship." He turned to Rygel and Erkul. "Now do you understand what we are after?"

Rygel laughed. "Crichton! Do you know what this means? We'll be rich- powerful! I can hire a fleet of mercenaries and win my throne back!"

Crichton didn't look very interested, despite Rygel's enthusiasm.

"How much are you paying this _dren_?" the Tavlek asked Genna, waving at both Rygel and Crichton. "All they do is transport, while my crew does all the real work!"

"They are being given two parts, the same as your crew. Whichever crew finds the wreck first receives a bonus of one additional part. That was the agreement."

"Then I am altering that agreement."

Erkul held his unweaponed hand up high. The other alien with him, a squat stocky grey bodied thing with a hard shell carapace, pulled out a gun. Seeing the signal, the other two sentries farther back raised their rifles as well. Then Erkul raised his arm, pointing his powered gauntlet right at Crichton's head. Crichton got the message. He took out his pistol and dropped it onto the ice. If the Ayetuh were concerned about this development, neither Genna or Vendrana showed it. They watched the scene with no more than mild curiosity, offering neither help nor comment.

"How dare you!" Rygel said. But despite his verbal bravado, his gravthrone started easing back, ready to make a break for it."

"Stay where you are, Hynerian. I'll shoot you down soon as look at you."

"Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot," Crichton tried smiling at the Tavlek. "You don't need to do this."

The Tavlek gave a quick glance at Crichton's feet. Looking up, he sneered and said, "You have more spirit than the Hynerian. I like that. You at least deserve an answer. - With you out of the way, we get your share. If you tell me where your ship is, we'll take it and just maroon you here with supplies. If you don't, we kill you now and take the ship." Erkul nodded to Genna and Vendrana. "We'll honor our bargain with you Ayetuh" he promised them. "But these pathetic clods are not worthy of what you offer them. If we have to, we will return with a bigger ship."

"D'Argo, anytime is good for me," John muttered in a low voice.

D'Argo's huge body eased up from under the lee of an ice wall, where windblown ice shavings had collected into a mound. He was wearing a thermal pack and his Qualta was aimed right at Erkul. The tavlek's men started to turn, aiming their rifles at the white dusted Luxan.

"Hold right where you are or the Tavlek dies," D'Argo's commanding voice yelled out. Being as Luxans were known to be creatures of their word, no one moved. "I suggest you order your men to put their weapons down," D'Argo told Erkul.

Erkul turned, very slowly. He did not want to alarm D'Argo. "A Luxan! Well, I'm impressed. Still, you are outnumbered. Kill me and you're next, then your friends. I suggest that it is you who must put down his weapon."

Just as the aliens on post duty started to raise their rifles again, two well aimed pulses ripped into the ice just behind where they were standing. The melted ice hissed outward from the impact holes in stinking clouds of steam.

"Your weapons! Drop them - NOW!" Aeryn ordered. She too had been camouflaged beneath a pile of windblown ice.

Both aliens wisely tossed their weapons down to the ground.

"This is pointless," Genna explained. His voice was calm and devoid of emotion. "In less than seven days, that small collapsed star up there will reach a critical state, expelling part of its mass outward in a huge explosion. This system will be filled with lethal radiation from the new nebula. No one will be able to revisit this planet for a thousand cycles. - Your plan to return with a larger ship would never work. You couldn't get back in time. I suggest you learn to cooperate, or all of us will leave here with nothing."

"Wait a minute," John butted in. "You're telling us that the white dwarf up there is going to go nova? How could you possibly be able to predict something like that, and with that kind of accuracy? I didn't see you bring any instruments onboard Moya."

"How I know this is not important. I just do, John Crichton. We Ayetuh are known for such talents. The dwarf sun will do nothing for now. We are safe. But since time is pressing, I suggest that we all get to work. I will return with Erkul to his ship. Vendrana will go back with you to Moya. The crew that first finds the wreck will signal the location to the other ship."

Erkul waved at his crewmen. They warily picked their weapons up under Aeryn and D'Argo's eyes, and then slowly retreated back to their ship.

John started back for the transport pod, but the Tavlek grabbed his arm.

"No one get's the best of me, Crichton. You've done well for yourself, for now. But you just remember that. - Also, a word of advice about these Ayetuh. They're not like you and me. At least with us, we are honest about what we are. Them - don't let them into your head. You can't trust people like that."

"Somehow, Erkul, I don't think you're the one to be giving advice on trust." Crichton yanked his arm free and headed back for the transport pod.

Above them, the red sun dawned past the moon, blushing the landscape with a spreading blood-red stain.


	2. Eyes for Crichton

_Heya ScaperDeage - thanks for the words of encouragement. Since I'm going to change the original ending, I'll curious how this ends myself. -) Cheers - Sol._

Zhaan was very curious about the Ayetuh who had returned in Genna's place. Though affable and as gracious as always, Zhaan's vibrant eyes followed the woman's every gesture, reading into each glance or brief comment a world of possibilities. Later in the day, at the time when it was customary for the crew to dine, Zhaan made it a point to sit with Aeryn, who otherwise, sat alone. Since Genna, and now Vendrana, had come onboard, Aeryn had taken to eating by herself. She did not know why, but Aeryn's presence made the Ayetuh uneasy and taciturn.

"What do you know about the Ayetuh?" Zhaan asked her.

Aeryn glanced at Vendrana and shook her head with an affected disinterest, exposed by the quickest of glances at the table where the others sat. Like Zhaan, Aeryn was also, it seemed, very curious about Vendrana, though she made too obvious pains to not seem obvious.

"Nothing. I've never heard of them before. All I know is they don't seem to care much for my company."

"Probably guilt by association, my dear. Peacekeepers do have a way of making enemies wherever they go. I'm sure it's nothing personal."

"Well, she doesn't seem to mind John's company," Aeryn noted.

John had just said something he thought was funny. D'Argo, as was usual when inflicted with what passed for humor in humans, scowled and tried to ignore it. Rygel, through sheer obsequious gall, was trying to outdo John in laughter, seeing that John's every comment seemed to bring a smile to Vendrana's face. Every now and then, her hand would slip forward and pat John's, as if to congratulate him on something particularly well said.

Zhaan studied the scene. "Yes, I see what you mean. She does seem rather fond of John."

Aeryn stabbed something brown and greasy on her plate and shoved it into her mouth. The look on her face showed just what she thought.

"Oh, I love a man with a sense of humor," Vendrana said, patting John's hand once again.

"Well, maybe someday, we'll have one onboard," Chiana added. She had come in from the galley to deposit some food on the table.

Having had her fill, Aeryn got up. "I think I'll go and clean my rifle," Aeryn told Zhaan.

Apparently after having swallowed something she didn't like, Aeryn stomped out of the room.

"What's wrong with Aeryn?" John asked.

"Maybe she overheard your joke," D'Argo suggested.

"Or maybe she tasted the food," John countered, wrinkling his nose at the pasty brown porridge that Chiana had spooned onto his plate.

Not caring to dine alone, Zhaan got up and sat down in between D'Argo and Rygel. Chiana handed her a plate full of food. Zhaan sniffed it, and then offered Chiana a weak half smile.

"What is it?" Zhaan asked her.

"Food cube stew. I thought it might give us some variety."

"Chiana, you amaze me," D'Argo grumbled. "I never thought that food cubes could possibly taste worse - until now."

"Well, if we hadn't run out of regular food, we'd have something better to eat. You don't like it, don't eat it."

"Don't listen to him," Rygel told her. "Wonderful stuff. Best you've ever done." The Hynerian reached over and glopped another helping onto his plate.

Chiana hurried back to the galley before Crichton could dig deeper for yet another anecdote from his unchequered past.

"Vendrana," Zhaan leaned forward, more interested in conversation than in eating. "You are well?"

"Yes, thank you," Vendrana smiled. Her three eyes blinked in unison. "John here was just telling us about his homeworld. They capture moonlight and distill it into a beverage, which has led John into some wonderful adventures."

John laughed and returned the courtesy by patting Vendrana's hand, apparently unaware how easy he had become with her. "Not moonlight, honey. _Moonshine_." He turned to Zhaan. "Zhaan, did I ever tell you the story?"

"Yes John, several times."

Zhaan leaned again towards Vendrana and even reached out to touch the Ayetuh's hand. The smile immediately left Vendrana's face. Vendrana pulled her hand away from Zhaan and stared at the Delvian with a expression that was almost blank, except for a touch of obvious distaste that showed at the corners of her mouth. Vendrana it seemed, lacked Genna's inscrutable ways, or just did not care what Zhaan might think.

If Zhaan seemed put off by this, she did not show it.

"Tell me Vendrana, Aeryn seems to think that you don't like her. Is there some truth in this? If so, I am curious as to why this might be."

"You are very direct," Vendrana noted, not answering the question. She shifted in her seat, leaning backwards towards the shelter of John's shoulder, and ever so slightly away from Zhaan.

"I find that is often the best way to get answers," Zhaan replied, offering a beautiful smile but showing no sign of letting the matter go.

As John was about to say something, Zhaan held up her hand, cutting him off. "Excuse me a moment." Turning to Rygel, "Rygel, if you kick me one more time, I swear by the Goddess you are going to be tasting that stew from the backwards end!"

Rygel shrank from her glare and flattened his ears. He set about eating quietly.

"I'm sorry," Zhaan smiled at Vendrana, her voice caressing and lovely once more. "You were about to say?"

"Cmon, Zhaan," John interjected, sensing Vendrana's unease. "What's this? An interrogation? Vendrana's our guest."

"She is not our guest, John. She is a business partner." Zhaan's correction was softly spoken, but in a tone that would not be denied. "I just need a few questions answered so I may understand our position better. As it has come about, the transaction has already shifted from the one Rygel first proposed to us. And since Genna did not see fit to inform us of this beforehand, I just want to make sure that there are no more surprises."

Everyone glanced at Rygel; but he just sighed and helped himself to more stew.

John wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of any answer to Zhaan's argument. D'Argo, for his part, welcomed the excuse to stop eating. He glanced at each speaker, interested, but offering no comment. Certainly, he had no objection to Zhaan's questioning the Ayetuh.

Seeing that she had no remaining advocates, Vendrana reluctantly answered.

"It is not common knowledge, but long ago my people, the Ayetuh, were once Sebacean. We were a product of genetic manipulation, purposely bred to enlighten and teach. As warrior factions began to dominate Sebacean society, Sebaceans decided that their race must be pure, free from the taint of mutation. They discarded us at first, walling us into the lower depths of their ships, leaving us to fight over scraps and garbage. Later they purged my people and other _undesireables_ they had produced."

Her voice more cold, her words more bitter, Vendrana continued her story.

"Some of my forebears escaped the pogroms. They fled into exile, into the Uncharted Territories. But we have never forgotten how we came to be in these galactic wastes - or those who drove us here. So you see, your fears that we would cooperate with your Peacekeeper pursuers is unfounded. We, of all peoples, would never have any truck with such filth."

At this revelation, D'Argo leaned forward, growling at Rygel. "And just what else have you been blabbing, your royal idiotness! And to whom?"

Vendrana held up her hand. "The Hynerian told us nothing. We have our own sources of information. We are information brokers as well as smugglers, after all. And certainly you cannot be surprised that we know of this when Captain Crais is broadcasting a reward for you in every system his ship visits."

"_Anlir_," Zhaan continued. "I've heard of it. But I know nearly nothing of its properties."

Vendrana pulled a pouch out and spilled the tiniest bit of it onto the table. It glittered, even in the dim light.

"It produces clarity of mind. Nothing more. But still, such clarity is highly sought after. With it, you become better at whatever it is you do. It varies with the individual, but the results are always nothing less than spectacular."

"Yes," Rygel chimed in. "I have tasted it, once. It was given to each ruler on coronation day, to guide them on the right path. It's amazing stuff. With only a single tiny taste, I could perceive everything about me clearly. Patterns I couldn't see before became obvious. Suddenly, I knew where I was vulnurable, and who my enemies were, and what they were plotting. It was as if it had been right before me all the time. My reign was glorious."

Rygel sighed, his ears bending, his eyes downcast.

"Yes, but the effect didn't last. Decades later, my young cousin broke into the royal treasury and stole the rest of the _anlir_. He used it all himself, the selfish dreck. He used it to get into my good graces, and to out plan and depose me. He could never have done so without the drug. He always seemed so clever, so charming, and always with the right answer. I came to trust him, too much."

The weight of lost possibilities and squandered years seemed to press down on Rygel. His body shrank into his chair, making him seem even smaller.

There was a strange quiet for a moment, until D'Argo asked, "What was your ship doing all the way out here? We are near no other habitable systems. I find it odd that a ship would have come all this way out here with such a precious cargo."

Vendrana was ready, and quick with her answers, as if her words had been kept ready.

"Pirates had discovered the planet where we stored our _anlir_ reserves. We had to move them. One Captain and a crew were entrusted to find a safe hiding place. But the ship was lost. So then, was our collective fortune and power. The only clue we had was that a distress buoy was found in this region. Our searching has never produced results - until recently. That is why you are here."

"Would it be permissable to have a sample of this _anlir_?" Zhaan asked, gazing down at the red specks on the table. "For testing. You may consider it a down payment for our services."

Vendrana was obviously reluctant, but in the circumstances, she felt there was little she could do.

"Yes, of course."

She flicked off the tiniest flake and dropped it into Zhaan's extended hand. Quickly, she plucked the rest up and put it back into her pouch. Wetting her finger, she touched it to the table, and licked it once, lest any precious crumb go unused. Her body shuddered once, and she leaned back and smiled.

Seeing Vendrana's reaction to the _anlir_, Zhaan's eyes narrowed. But she said nothing.


End file.
